


A Beast's Perspective

by Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me



Series: Destiel Feels [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Audio Format: MP3, Benny Lafitte & Dean Winchester Friendship, Destiel - Freeform, Hope, Loss, Love, M/M, POV Benny Lafitte, POV First Person, Podfic, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Available, Podfic Length: 10-20 Minutes, Post-Canon, Purgatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:55:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2733323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me/pseuds/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has told Benny a lot of things. The two had come to be close. They didn't lie to each other ... well except for once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Beast's Perspective

**Author's Note:**

> [Listen to the audio version (youtube link)](https://youtu.be/l9Syl8GhpwA)

  

   I knew what he was before I ever even got near him. I was drawn towards him like every other seethin’ beast that drug its belly along the rocks of that place; but, like them, I didn’t know why we were bein’ pulled along every which way. We didn’t know until we got close. Well … _they_ didn’t know. He was obvious to me once he popped into my sights. I thought I’d be able to smell him, like I was able to up-top. All that lively blood thrummin’ through his veins, just callin’ my name! That’s the funny thing about bein’ down there though, all my animal senses just seemed to slip away, like a ship into water. _Nah_ …  I couldn’t smell him. Even when I saw his form, and that weird glow he was castin’, and heard that dull hum that seemed to rumble deep inside his belly—I couldn't believe what I was seein' … I just knew that he didn’t belong down there. Then he turned, or he _was_ turned by that scaly thing he was fightin’, and that’s when I saw what he _truly_ was. Only _one_ creature in all o’ creation can hold that kind of hope in its eyes. That kind of hunger for somethin’ that is for all the mind’s wanderin’s –   _impossible_. That boy over there, beaten and bloody like the butcher’s meat … _oh_ , that boy was human!

    I knew ‘bout the rumors of the portal, or passageway, or _whatever_ the beasts called it between killin’ each other, long before that moment. I never believed it, nor would it matter if I did—not until lil’ Dean busted into our playground, throwin’ punches, actin’ like he could hold his own against all o’ us. _Well_... I must admit, now that it’s all said and done with, the boy probably _could_ manage. It was good he had me though, I kept him hangin’ on ... _heh_ , yeah … _right_. Oh, if the boys up top saw me growin’ soft on a human! Well … they would stick my head right back on just to lop it off again. Honestly, I wouldn’t blame ‘em. I hardly can believe it myself; but Dean wasn’t no regular human. That boy was a beast all his own, of his own makin’. No one turned him, or maybe … _too many_ people did. It don’t matter, he was somethin’ unique and when I first saw those hope-filled eyes, I knew he was just the ticket. If I had only known in that moment, he would become so much more than a means to my end.

   After I saved his hide a time or two more, he started to trust me. I, reluctantly, started to trust him as well. There were plenty of times he could’a had my head. The boy kept his word though. He never went back on it, even when I nearly forced him to. Let me tell ya, when he said he wanted to find an angel! I ‘bout threw him into a pile of those big mouth sons a bitches that were always on our heels! The damned fool knew better than that, I knew he did! I told him that the only other thing singin’ a siren’s song louder than his freckled ass was that of the holy bastard in the land of abomination! He didn’t care though. The night I about beat him senseless when his little quest almost got us _both_ skinned alive, he told me that it was the angel or nothin’. He told me that either we three all get out together, or we three all rot there. I looked into those big, mean green eyes and that’s when I saw it—what was rubbin’ the sticks together, keepin’ that little fire of hope alive. It wasn’t the brother he talked about so often. _Nah_ , somewhere, deep down, I think Dean knew that lil’ Sammy was lost to him. Whether he stopped lookin’, or died tryin’ … Dean wasn’t getting his brother back, not entirely.

   It wasn’t revenge or even survival movin’ the dumb fool forward either—makin’ him so desperate that he would saddle up with a vamp. _Nah_ , like I said before, Dean Winchester was a whole _different_ beast. He was one I could never truly put in a jar with a nice label. He would never fit and it would never be right. Truth be told, the boy couldn’t be contained at all. I have seen my fair share of beasts and the purest makin’s of sin. Dean could be worse than all of them at times. I saw the man pluck the tendons in werewolf’s neck with his fingers; he played him like a fiddle until the bloody thing howled in pain and pleadin’ sobs. Dean just laughed, _oh_ he laughed the coldest laugh that made even _my_ icy blood shiver with somethin’ worse. Yet, that hope was _still_ there. How could a man so ruthless, a boy so lost, still have that hope inside him? I spent months tryin’ to figure it out. I ‘bout quit wonderin’. Then, that glimmer never shined so bright until I told him we should give up on his winged lil’ friend.  

   I held his face into the dirt and I busted his arm behind his back and I told him, I _told_ him we had to stop this foolish wanderin’. Wanderin’ for a thing that would only put targets the size o’ Louisiana across all our foreheads. I bared my teeth and put the fury of hell in my voice; but that fierce lil’ boy just turned his head—his neck veins poppin’ in ways that would have made _up-top-me_ , crazy with hunger. He looked at me, teeth all bloody from where my knuckles split his lip, and he _grinned_. He said “We”re done if you don’t help me find my angel. You hear me? We’re done!” And like I said, that’s when it all clicked. I knew that as a human, you’re only ever runnin’ from somethin’ or towards somethin’ and this boy was doin’ both all at once. The worst part was, he didn’t even know it. He was a damn fool … actin’ like he was doin’ this out a loyalty to some adopted kin, or as some promise he aimed to keep. He must’ve told himself those excuses so many times, he honestly believed ‘em, but as a man who lost his head over my own set of pretty eyes and dark, flowy hair, I knew the true reasonin’ for us blisterin’ our feet all that way. Dean’s eyes proved it.

   As we made our go along the river, I could feel the air start to thicken. At first, it almost felt good, like I was back in the swamps of home—but this wasn’t the muggy heat of the bayou. The air down there didn’t get cleansed when in the presence of somethin’ as pure as an angel. _Nah_ ’ it got thick and ragged, makin’ all us beasts gasp for breath and grow manic, tryin’ to survive against it. I never told the boy but it was all I could do not to rip the head off that godly thing. The angel made my skin itch and my bones ache somethin’ fierce. I kept it together, for the boy and for myself.

   When we broke through to the clearin’, there he was. Not sure what I was expectin’ when I saw my first angel, but it sure wasn’t no scruffed up, dirty sap in a trench coat. _Oh_ , but if you could’ve seen Dean’s face though! That was the _real_ grace I would'a expected to see! There’s nothin’ more pure than the look that boy had when those blue eyes met his.  I had seen Dean smile many times while down there, and there was _always_ somethin’ sinister or sad behind his teeth, clackin’ against his tongue, but not when he saw his angel. That beast inside him calmed and slept, and morphed back into a man … all the way down into a boy at Christmas. All the innocence of everything that ever is and ever was, crawled into the look those two gave each other. If I still had a soul worth anythin’, it would have warmed in that moment. I was still in survival mode though, so I stayed cold. I gritted my teeth as Dean sauntered towards the dirty thing, running his fingers along that scruffy face, collecting it up into the biggest hug a human could manage. I spit out little mumblin’s as the two of ‘em promised each other they would make it out. I heaved dry threats as the angel held us back and as Dean pushed us forward. To my surprise, the _angel_ even agreed with me. He knew that he was shinin’ like a light house. But, that angel also knew Dean better than I did, and where I kept bitchin’ and moanin' about our sorry way … he stopped fightin’ the man quick, knowin’ that it was useless. Dean wasn’t gonna give up on him—he would _die_ before he gave up on his angel.

   I didn’t know exactly what happened. I could only feel some things—only if those things were strong enough for Dean to feel throughout all his bones. Once he said his little bit o’ voodoo and sucked my sinful soul up into his wrist, I was lost to the specifics of the world. I went in, assumin’ I’d either see my body once more, or be stuck inside that boy’s arm forever. Either way, it was better than the alternative. I can’t even really describe how it was in there. The closest thing I could relate it to is that fallin’ feelin’ right before you wake up from a deep sleep. I was aware but _not really_ … I was aware that I was movin’. I could feel the force of the portal pullin’ me and Dean in. I could feel something inside Dean start to shake—it was like he was breakin’. I felt something grip around his arm and then, in a moment, _it was gone_. I knew, right then, I felt it right then … the moment hope left Dean’s eyes.

   I don’t think he was aware, _no_ , I don’t think he knew at all that I was able to hear him once we broke through the other side. It still wasn’t clear but everythin’ human in him intensified once he set his feet back on clean soil. It got so strong, so _heated_ that my little, sinister soul boiled in his veins. I could hear him cuss me out, goin’ on about how I was hurtin’ his arm. _Heh_ , I wondered if bein’ up top could really make him soft so soon.  I heard him talk to those other people, askin’ ‘em where the road was. I heard his breath tumble from his chest as he made his way to where my bones were buried. I heard his stomach grumble and growl like all the beasts he killed ... the first time in _a_ _year_ that boy thought of food, I’m sure. I felt all those things like little pin pricks on my skin, but the strongest of ‘em all, the ones that felt like daggers goin’ right through _whatever_ it was that I was in that moment, were the tears that dripped through his fingers as he covered his face. Many men cry and even beasts show the water works in times of fear and pain … but these tears weren’t the kind that come from the body, they came from Dean’s soul. The spindles of salt and wet twisted down his wrists, glossin’ the skin that barely kept me in. It burned when it passed me. Not sure if that was due to its humanity or the fact that those tears were _all too_ familiar.

   I shed those tears when I watched my love’s throat get ripped from her neck. I shed those tears when I knew I failed her … when I knew I broke all the promises I had ever made. Somewhere, deep inside me, I always knew I’d fail her though. My eyes never glimmered with hope like Dean’s did. I was a beast, and I knew that would always haunt me. Haunt everyone I ever was stupid enough to love. But, Dean truly believed that he could keep his promises. He knew, deep in that twisted gut of his, the angel, myself, and his own, beaten hide would make it out--never thinkin’ for _a_ _second_ anythin’ different.

   And as those fiery tears scalded my bein’, and as I felt his body crumble to the ground, stoppin’ for the first time in the last year … I only heard him say one word. _One word_ and I knew that he failed. I knew that he broke his promise, whether he meant to or not, _he broke it_. I didn’t know exactly what happened. I didn’t realize that the angel slipped from his fingers. I only knew that somethin’ inside Dean was dyin’ _right_ then and _right_ there. If I still had a heart, it was breakin’ for the boy. We wanderd together for a year and we hunted and we killed. We ran and we bled and we laughed on the brink of insanity, but somethin’ kept him together— _that angel_ kept him together. The way I heard him whisper his angel’s name—how sweetly he let the sound roll off his tongue, and fall into the night air. The vacancy that followed, _well_ … I would have rather seen the boy die back in that festerin’ pit than hear that silence.

   He would later tell me … tell me how he missed purgatory. He said it was _pure_ , _just livin’ and dyin’._ I knew how he meant it to sound. I knew he was tryin’ to say it was simple, and that huntin’ was all he knew and that’s all there was down there. That is what he was _tryin_ ’ to say. But his eyes weren’t the eyes I once knew, and his voice was darker, and hollow somehow. And if I weren’t a man raised in the southern way, I would have wrapped the boy in a hug and told him to be _truthful_ with himself—I would have told him to stop all this silly lyin’ and game playin’--that all it was doin’ was killin’ him! But I didn’t say a word. I stood there quiet, playin’ along like the fool-beast I am. Even though I knew, _I knew_ what Dean was really missin’, and it wasn’t no purgatory filled with sinners like me.

     Like I said before, as a human … you’re only ever runnin’ from somethin’ or towards somthin’. Dean lost his _somethin_ ’ when it slipped out of his hand. That boy lost his somethin’ and now he ain’t even human no more. That somethin’ broke away, and dragged all the hope from the boy’s eyes … he don’t glow no more.

   I don’t know what he is … but he ain’t Dean.


End file.
